


Owl post

by parkkate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clever Owls, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-War, writing letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkkate/pseuds/parkkate
Summary: Imagine Draco, sometime after the war, sitting alone in his flat and not knowing what to do with himself. He feels so empty, but on the other hand, there’s so much he wants to say. But who should he talk to? There’s nobody there. So he just begins writing his thoughts down. Little does he know his owl is delivering these to the person she thinks Draco needs most in his life.





	Owl post

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

_So you know how owls don’t need an address to find the person the letter is addressed to? What if these owls were even cleverer than that?_

Imagine Draco, sometime after the war, sitting alone in his flat and not knowing what to do with himself. He feels so empty, but on the other hand, there’s so much he wants to say. But who should he talk to? There’s nobody there. So he just begins writing his thoughts down. Sometimes it’s little poems. Sometimes it’s like he’s writing a journal. And sometimes he writes letters, addressed to no one. He keeps writing every day and whenever he’s finished, he puts the piece of parchment onto the little pile on his desk, where he keeps all his personal writing.

If Draco had been paying more attention, he would have noticed that this pile wasn’t getting any bigger. It stays exactly the same, because his sneaky little owl delivers one per day to the person she thought could help Draco the most.

When she lands on her usual windowsill on Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the window is already open and Harry is smiling at her with a treat in his hand.

“You’re very punctual,” he murmurs as he strokes her feathers. He carefully takes the piece of parchment out of her beak and smiles as she starts nibbling at her treat. Harry suspects Malfoy still doesn’t know that his owl is bringing him these letters.

Harry had been puzzled himself at first, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out who had written these. After that, he had tried to talk to the owl, tried to explain to her that she must have gotten the wrong address, because surely this wasn’t meant for him.

But the owl had come back every day, bringing Harry another piece of parchment and Harry had found himself mesmerized by them. The poems were heart-wrenching, Malfoy talking about his day made Harry want to go over there and talk to him. But he doesn’t dare. He would have to admit, he read Malfoy’s most inner thoughts without his consent. And Harry doubts, the Malfoy he would be facing would be the same as the Malfoy in these letters.

Sighing, Harry settles down on the couch and begins to read today’s owl post.

_I had a dream last night. It wasn’t one of my usual nightmares, but I guess you could still call it that, because this will very likely haunt me for the rest of my days. It was about him. We were younger, much younger. We were on the Quidditch pitch, but not as enemies. We were just flying together, laughing together. It was so strange to see him like this. His eyes didn’t hold the resentment I am used to. He was looking at me like I was his whole world. It still hurts to think about it now. The worst part, however, was the way he cupped my cheeks and smiled at me, right before he kissed me. I could still feel his lips on mine when I woke up. I wasn’t even sure if I had been dreaming or not for a second. Then, reality crashed down on me again. Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if he knew. If he had known back then. I’m not sure if it would have made a difference. All he ever did was hate me, just as much as I pretended to hate him. I regret he never saw the truth. All I ever wanted was him. And for one night, my mind granted me that wish. However, I hope it doesn’t happen again. Only if my mind decides to let me dream forever._

Harry feels dizzy when he puts the letter down. It’s true, he never saw the truth, never even knew there was a truth to be seen. He had never thought to look beyond their fighting and mutual obsession. Never thought it could mean something else entirely.

But over the past few weeks, he discovered a whole different side of Malfoy and thereby discovered something about himself. He wants to take Malfoy’s pain away. Maybe he’s been wanting to do that for a while. And now, Harry knows he can.

He jumps up from the couch and locks eyes with the owl, still sitting on the windowsill.

“You clever little thing,” he whispers to her, as he strokes her feathers one more time. She hoots happily, as if encouraging Harry to hurry up. So he does. He hurries out the door, to apparate to Malfoy’s flat. He has no idea how he will do it and how long it will take Malfoy to believe Harry’s intentions are genuine, but it doesn’t matter.

He will do everything he can to make Draco Malfoy’s dreams come true.

 

***

 

Harry shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, while looking at a dumbfounded Malfoy. Maybe he should have thought this whole thing through first. He apparated over here without even thinking of how he would explain to Malfoy what he’s doing here, how he even knows where Malfoy lives. There’s no way he can tell him he followed his owl one day, not being able to contain his curiosity any longer. It’s a wonder Malfoy didn’t spot him on his broom that day.

“Potter,” Malfoy simply says.

“Um,” Harry begins, “you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

The sound of Harry’s voice seems to shake Malfoy out of his trance. His whole body tenses and his eyes narrow.

“How did you find me?”

Harry smiles awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck.

“Well, that’s a funny story, actually,” Harry laughs nervously. “Do you think I could tell you over a cup of tea?”

“This is just like you,” Malfoy growls, “inviting yourself in like that. Does it ever occur to you, oh mighty Saviour, that other people have lives of their own and don’t answer at your beck and call?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry snorts, “am I keeping you from staring at your wall all day?”

Harry inwardly flinches. He didn’t mean to say that. His mind just snapped. Like it used to, whenever Malfoy was around. Maybe he will have to change tactics and just try to be… charming? But how does one do that exactly?

“Um… maybe we could stare at your wall together?” Yes. Okay. That’s only slightly weird. Right? Or… not.

“What are you up to, Potter? What is this?”

Harry sighs, having no idea how he can convince Draco that he is just here to help. And… okay, for some other, more selfish reason.

“I was just wondering how you were doing, Malfoy,” Harry finally says.

“I’m not your friend, Potter. I don’t need you to check up on me. Go home, and don’t come back.” Harry anticipated Malfoy’s hostile reaction. He is still surprised, when the door suddenly slams shut right in front of his face. He briefly considers knocking again, but decides it’s probably no use. Shoulders hunched and slightly irritated, he apparates back to Grimmauld Place.

 

***

 

A few hours later, Harry is sprawled on the couch, trying to concentrate on the book in his lap, but his thoughts keep going back to Malfoy and the way he glowered at Harry. If he didn’t know any better, he’d really think Malfoy hated seeing him again. But Harry does know better and it finally makes him see what Malfoy had been doing all those years ago. Harry will have to try again.

Before he can form a proper plan in his head, there’s a fluttering noise by the window and suddenly, an owl lands gracefully on Harry’s book. He left the window open deliberately, hoping the owl would show up again.

“Hey there,” he croons, as he takes the piece of parchment from her beak and smiles at her fondly. His eyes dart over the elegant handwriting, his heart clenching, as he reads. The letter isn’t addressed to him explicitly, but there is no doubt, it’s meant for him.

_It was strange seeing you today. I still have no idea what you were doing here and why you would show up out of the blue. It confused me. My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest, I was sure you would be able to hear it. I was stupid for feeling so much hope when I looked at your face. It was so hard to not let it show. I don’t like the person I was in school, so pretending to hate you again… it brought back so many unresolved issues, so many things I never told you, because I didn’t want you to know. You really hurt me on our first day at Hogwarts. I realise now that I was a haughty prat, but that didn’t make your rejection any easier. Every time I saw you in the Great Hall, in class, in the corridors, every time I saw your name in the paper, I felt like I was going crazy. My mind kept screaming at me to hate you, while my heart yearned for you. It nearly destroyed me. So I did what I do best; I hid my feelings, bottled them up. I let nobody see the truth. But when I was alone, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I broke down. Picking up the pieces became harder every time, but somehow I did it. When I saw you today, I suddenly felt like I was eleven years old again. I want to hate you, it would be so much easier. Why do you have to make everything so hard for me? Why can’t you just let me be? I don’t feel strong enough to pick up the pieces anymore._

Before Harry realises it, he finds himself on Draco’s doorstep again, the words of the letter still echoing inside his head. His hand feels icy as he bangs it against the door.

“Malfoy, open up! Come on, I know you’re in there.”

After ten minutes, Harry is about to give up, when the door suddenly swings open.

“What,” Malfoy barks. He’s panting with rage and his hands are balled into fists. But that’s not what concerns Harry. His gaze is fixed on Malfoy’s red-rimmed eyes. Harry blinks several times, before taking a step forward. He stretches out his arms, palms up, and tries not to show how much the state of Malfoy’s eyes affect him.

“What are you doing, Potter?” Malfoy asks, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m waiting for you to do something. Anything,” Harry replies calmly.

“What?”

“Punch me, throw water in my face, hug me, whatever you feel like,” Harry says, shrugging.

Malfoy just stares at him, clearly at a loss.

“Why would I do any of those things?”

Harry’s lips stretch into a smile.

“I just figured, I’d give you a chance to do something you always wanted to do to me. You know, so it’s out of your system.” He bites the inside of his cheek, hoping he hasn’t revealed how much he really knows.

Malfoy huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You must be mental, Potter. Why would I ever want to hug you?”

Harry’s smile grows wider.

“I’ve been told I give very good hugs,” he shrugs. “Come on, Malfoy, make a decision. My arms are getting a bit weak here.”

Malfoy clicks his tongue once and reaches for something behind the door. Harry waits patiently, not really thinking that Malfoy is going to hug him, but…

A splash of water hits Harry’s face and he gasps. He accidentally swallows a gulp and starts coughing violently.

“Malfoy,” he gurgles. The water stops and Harry bends over, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. When he looks up again, he sees Malfoy is still pointing his wand at him, his expression blank.

“If that is all Potter, you can show yourself out now.”

Harry straightens himself up and takes another step forward.

“Let’s just talk for a bit,” he offers.

Malfoy snorts.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter. Just go.”

Harry doesn’t move, his expression resolute.

“Out, Potter. Now. Or I’m going to hex you.”

“No,” Harry says stubbornly.

Malfoy grits his teeth and before Harry can react, he flicks his wand, sending Harry flying to the other side of the door. He lands ungracefully on his back, groaning from the pain.

“That was really unnecessary,” Harry mutters.

“Go home, Potter,” Malfoy drawls, reaching for the doorhandle.

“I won’t,” Harry tells him, propping himself up on his elbows and locking eyes with Malfoy again. “I’m staying out here until you’ll talk to me.”

Malfoy’s eyes widen. Clearly, he questions how serious Harry is being right now. He huffs one more time, before slamming the door shut.

Harry sighs, knowing he will probably spend several hours, maybe even several days out here. Well, he’s partially right. It takes Malfoy until morning to open the door and find Harry still there, leaning against the wall. He looks shocked for a second, but then he holds the door open silently, waiting for Harry to get in.

Harry scrambles off the floor, his muscles aching from sitting in one position so long. He stretches his arms over his head as he enters the flat.

“You’re an idiot, Potter,” Malfoy grumbles and hands Harry a cup of tea. Harry grins at him, warming his hands on the cup.

“I can’t believe you stayed out there all night.”

Harry glances up to find Malfoy scrutinising him.

“I told you I would,” Harry shrugs.

“But why?”

Harry considers telling Malfoy the truth, but quickly decides against it. He doubts Malfoy would be willing to talk to him, after that.

“I just… I’ve been thinking about you,” Harry says as nonchalantly as possible, as he takes a sip of his tea. “And I kept wondering if you ever thought about me.”

Malfoy snorts into his tea and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“Don’t flatter yourself. As if I would ever waste a thought on you.”

Harry tries very hard not to snicker.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But, you know, I wanted to see you anyway.”

Malfoy still looks unconvinced, but Harry knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“What have you been up to these last few years?”

“I’d rather not talk about that,” Malfoy mutters, lifting his cup to his lips again.

“Okay. How long have you been living here?”

“A while.”

Harry sighs. He was right. The Malfoy he has gotten to know through the letters is a completely different person, while the Malfoy standing in front of him is very much the same as in Hogwarts. And yet… they are the same person. This Malfoy just doesn't want to show his vulnerable side. But Harry has to get to him somehow.

“Well, if you’re not in the mood to talk, I’ll do the talking,” he says, smiling. “I’ve been doing some… reading and it got me thinking about the old days. We were really awful to each other. And I realise we can’t take that back or anything, but maybe, now that that’s behind us and all, maybe we could just see if we can get along. You have to admit, there was always something between us.”

Harry bites his lip, to keep himself from laughing, when Malfoy chokes on his tea.

“What do you mean, there was something between us? Are you trying to tell me you had a thing for me, when we were in school?” Harry notices how low Malfoy’s voice suddenly sounds. As if he’s afraid he will scare Harry away.

“Oh no, I didn’t. But, you know, I was young and stupid,” he winks.

Malfoy almost chokes again.

“Well, I never felt anything other than-”

“Don’t,” Harry interrupts him, his expression turning serious. “I know it’s a lie,” he adds, his eyes boring into Malfoy’s. It seems to startle Malfoy and he closes his mouth. Maybe honesty is the best way to go here after all.

“Okay, so here’s the thing,”  Harry begins. “Please, don’t be mad. But I really know for a fact that you’re lying.”

“What?” Malfoy splutters.

“I have… proof.”

“What kind of proof?”

“Err…”

“Spit it out, Potter,” Malfoy grumbles.

“Yeah, okay. Um… so, I’ve been receiving these letters.” Harry pauses, peeking at Malfoy from under his lashes.

“Letters,” Malfoy repeats blankly.

“Well, sometimes they were… poems.”

Malfoy stares at him, his face impassive.

“I know you wrote them. Your owl kept bringing them to me. At first, I had no idea why. But then you started talking about me in those letters and it finally made me understand. Well, maybe not understand, but I finally knew. And maybe you think that’s the only reason I’m here and well… I guess I wouldn’t be here, if I hadn’t read those letters, but I never forgot about you. I’ve been thinking about you long before I read those letters and I never understood why it was so important to me to know what you were doing and if you were okay. But after reading your letters, it finally made sense. Because why else would your words affect me so much. So… yeah… here I am.”

Harry bites his lip, waiting for Malfoy to react. He almost expects him to draw his wand and send Harry out the door again. But Malfoy doesn’t move a muscle. He stares at Harry, the horror he’s feeling evident on his face.

“My- my owl,” he murmurs after a moment. “My owl stole my letters?”

“Well, she didn’t exactly steal-”

“And she brought them to you…”

Harry slowly nods.

“And you read them.”

Harry presses his lips together, a guilty look on his face. Malfoy inhales sharply and turns his back to Harry.

“It’s not what you think.” Malfoy’s voice is barely a whisper. “It was all on the spur of the moment. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“How can you say that?” Harry says, putting his cup down. He takes a step towards Malfoy, suppressing the urge to reach out and touch him.

“I need you to leave,” Malfoy says, his voice unsteady. Harry looks at him sadly and considers refusing and forcing Malfoy to admit the truth. But would that really help? Maybe it would be better to give Malfoy a chance to think about this. So Harry nods, although Malfoy can’t see him, and heads for the door.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy,” he murmurs as he walks out and apparates back to his place.

 

***

 

Three days have passed since their encounter and Harry hasn’t received any letters. Apparently, Malfoy has stopped writing them. At first, Harry was angry at Malfoy for being so stubborn, but the more he thought about it, the more he understood. How would he feel, if he was in Malfoy’s position? He would have been embarrassed and probably would have tried to deny everything, too.

So Harry has a thought. If he reciprocates, maybe Malfoy will see that Harry is being genuine. He sits down at his desk, gets out some parchment and ink and starts scribbling down the first thing that comes to his mind.

_Malfoy, I understand why you’re being like this. And I know I apologised to you for reading your letters, but you know what? I’m not sorry about that at all. It finally made me see a side of you I always hoped existed. Let me be clear about something: I won’t lie to you. Learning about your feelings took me off guard. I really had no idea. And I hope you will believe me when I tell you, you don’t have anything to feel embarrassed about. I might have been oblivious when we were in school, but I know now and I would never take advantage of that. I would really like to talk to you about this in person and I understand if you need time, but please don’t push me away now. We had seven years of fighting, hurting each other, maybe we could try to comfort each other from now on instead._

Harry makes a face as he re-reads his letter. Maybe it’s a bit much, but this is how he feels and he wants Malfoy to know that. So there’s really no point in hiding who he really is.

Harry watches his owl vanish on the horizon and lowers his head to his desk. Now all he can do is wait.

 

***

 

He must have fallen asleep, because when Harry opens his eyes again, it’s dark outside. There’s something nibbling at his fingers and when his eyes finally focus, he sees his owl blinking at him.

“Hey,” Harry whispers smiling, caressing the beak. “Did you deliver the letter?” Harry stops breathing when he sees something is tied to his owl’s leg. He unties it frantically and opens the little note.

_Dear Merlin, Potter, no need to be so dramatic. It still doesn’t mean anything. You’re reading way too much into this. But fine, you can come by my flat again._

Harry punches the air and jumps up. He apparates to Malfoy’s flat immediately and grins widely when Malfoy opens the door.

“Potter,” he splutters, “I didn’t mean right now.”

Harry shrugs, walks past Malfoy and seats himself on the couch.

Malfoy mutters something under his breath as he follows Harry and plops down on the other end of the couch.

“So,” Harry begins, “you really have it bad for me, don’t you?”

Malfoy starts coughing violently. Harry scoots over to him and hesitantly pats his back. Malfoy cringes and shoots Harry a dark look.

“So you’re just here to make fun of me? I should have known,” Malfoy growls.

Harry bites his lip and presses his hand more firmly against Malfoy’s back.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I guess I’m just nervous?”

“Nervous,” Malfoy repeats flatly. “Why would you be nervous?”

“Well, this is all very new. All we ever did was fight and make fun of each other. I don’t want to do that anymore, but I don’t know how.”

Suddenly, Malfoy gets up. Harry watches him as he stretches out his arms and looks at Harry with a serious expression.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m doing what you did,” Malfoy mutters, “I’m giving you a chance to do whatever you want to me.”

Harry’s heart clenches. Is Malfoy expecting him to punch him? For old time’s sake?

Never breaking eye-contact, Harry gets up as well and takes a step closer to Malfoy. He takes one deep breath, before throwing his arms around his neck and pressing his body against the other man’s. Malfoy’s body doesn’t go rigid, but he doesn’t return the hug either. But Harry doesn’t care. He presses their cheeks together and cradles the back of Malfoy’s head.

He can’t help but smile when he feels tentative hands on his back.

“This is what you wanted to do?” Malfoy murmurs. Harry just nods and tightens his grip. The stay like this for a while, until Malfoy clears his throat.

“You never told me how you feel about…”

He leans away and looks at Harry, uncertainty clearly shining in his eyes.

“I’m not sure what I feel exactly,” Harry says truthfully. “But I’d like to find out.”

He pulls Malfoy closer again and revels in the warmth of his body and the feel of his hands on his back.

 

***

 

Over the next two months, Harry visits Malfoy daily. They sit on his couch and talk for hours, cook together, laugh together. Harry finds that he immensely enjoys making Malfoy blush. The most effective way to do that is calling him Draco. Harry grins every time it happens. Harry also finds himself unable to stop touching Draco, not even trying to find excuses as he puts his hand on the small of his back, his arm, his thigh. Draco seems to enjoy it, but he’s hesitant to reciprocate.

The first time they kiss, they stand in the kitchen, doing the dishes after dinner. Draco laughs as Harry accidentally drops the plate he’s been scrubbing into the dishwater and gets foam on his face.

“A little help here?” Harry mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the foam from dripping into his eyes. Draco snickers and steps closer. He removes Harry’s glasses and starts wiping the foam away with his fingers. Harry’s breath catches as he feels Draco linger on the corner of his mouth, before gently stroking his cheek.

Everything is blurry as Harry opens his eyes, but he can see Draco looking at him intently, his cheeks flushed and his mouth slightly open.

He seems frozen in place, as if Harry has stunned him. When Harry doesn’t move either, Draco falters, slowly withdrawing his hand from Harry’s cheek. Before it’s completely gone, Harry grabs his wrist, causing dishwater to drip onto the floor. He guides Draco’s hand to the back of his neck, waiting for Draco to curl his fingers around it. When he does, Harry lets got of his wrist, to put his own hands on Draco’s shoulder blades.

When Harry pulls him closer, Draco’s eyes widen, and Harry can see he’s still uncertain and maybe even afraid.

“I’ve been wanting to do this, ever since you talked about us kissing in your dream,” Harry breathes against Draco’s lips. “I’ve been having a few dreams myself.”

Draco shudders and his grip on Harry’s neck tightens. His other hand finds Harry’s cheek and Harry leans into the touch. He tilts his head slightly and raises his chin. His lips brush Draco’s ever so slightly, causing the other man to gasp. Harry presses his hands more firmly against Draco’s shoulder blades and shifts his own weight forward. He moves his mouth against Draco’s and makes a pleased sound at the back of his throat when Draco finally starts to do the same.

It’s funny, Harry thinks, how suddenly everything comes so easily to them. Curling up on the couch together, falling asleep together… They’re still taking it slow, but Harry notices how Draco gets more relaxed around him with every passing day.

Neither of them talk about the fact that they’re basically living together now, since Harry barely sleeps at his own place. They both seem to enjoy each other’s company too much to change it anyway.

When Draco tells Harry one day he recently started writing again, Harry feels the blood drain from his face.

“Are… are you unhappy?” Harry asks timidly.

Draco smiles at him and shakes his head.

“No. I just find it soothing to write down what’s going on inside my head.”

Harry wants to believe him, but he suspects there’s more to it than Draco is telling him. Whenever they’re together, though, Draco really does seem happy, so Harry tries not to ponder on it. He simply continues to stroke Draco’s hair while the blond is sprawled across him on the couch.

There’s a knock at the door. Draco gives Harry a quick peck on the lips, before getting up and strolling over to it. When he opens it, Draco lets out a gasp. Harry’s mouth opens as well and his eyes go wide. His gaze falls upon gloved hands, clutching several rolls of parchment.

The owl did it again. Harry is sure of it. She found another person Draco would need most in his life.

So Harry smiles, as he watches Draco’s posture soften as he is gently pulled into a tight embrace. Their bodies are trembling and Harry is quite sure they are both trying to hold back tears, as they tighten their grip on each other.

The room is completely silent, until Harry hears Draco sob softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Mother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Say Hi on [tumblr](https://parkkate.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
